fied by such
indecencies, but to be sure will not stand and examine them. "Oh, come
along, Jacob!" she exclaimed to her husband, when, at their first visit
to the Museum, he went to work at the antiques with his Murray. "I've
no patience you ought to be ashamed of yourself!"

The Bradshaws were staying at the _pension_ selected by Mrs.
Lessingham. Naturally the conversation at dinner turned much on that
lady and her niece. With Cecily's father Mr. Bradshaw had been well
acquainted, but Cecily herself he had not seen since her childhood, and
his astonishment at meeting her as Miss Doran was great.

"What kind of society do they live among?" he asked of Spence. "Tip-top
people, I suppose?"

"Not exactly what we understand by tip-top in England. Mrs.
Lessingham's family connections are aristocratic, but she prefers the
society of authors, artists--that kind of thing."

"Queer people for a young girl to make friends of, eh?"

"Well, there's Mallard, for instance."

"Ah, Mallard, to be sure."

Mrs. Bradshaw looked at her hostess and smiled knowingly.

"Miss Doran is rather fond of talking about Mr. Mallard," she remarked.
"Did you notice that, Miriam?"

"Yes, I did."

Jacob broke the silence.

"How does he get on with his painting?" he asked--and it sounded very
much as though the reference were to a man busy on the front door.

"He's never likely to be very popular," replied Spence, adapting his
remarks to the level of his guests' understanding. "There was something
of his in this year's Academy, and it sold at a tolerable price."

"That thing of his that I bought, you remember--I find people don't see
much in it. They complain that the colour's so dull. But then, as I
always say, what else could you expect on a bit of Yorkshire moor in
winter? Is he going to paint anything here? Now, if he'd do me a bit of
the bay, with Vesuvius smoking."

"That would be something like!" assented Mrs. Bradshaw.

When the ladies had left the dining-room, Mr. Bradshaw, over his
cigarette, reverted to the subject of Cecily.

"I suppose the lass has had a first-rate education?"

"Of the very newest fashion for girls. I am told she reads Latin."

"By Jove!" cried the other, with sudden animation. "That reminds me of
something I wanted to talk about. When I was leaving Manchester, I got
together a few hooks, you know, that were likely to be useful over
here. My friend Lomax, the bookseller, suggested them. 'Got a classical